Owen’s laughter cut through Carly’s panic. “Your five-foot-two inch, a hundred-and-twenty-pounds soaking wet with rocks in her pockets wife is a slave driver?”
“She might be small, but she’s feisty, stubborn as all get out, and can get more than a little bossy.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” Owen said as he hooked his right thumb at Carly.
“If you see to saddling Whiskey, I’ll get the rest of what we need, and we’ll meet in the arena,” Carly said.
The older man nodded, said he’d see them outside, and left. Once the wooden barn door rattled closed, Carly exhaled and leaned against the nearby shelves.
“That was embarrassing. If anyone else hears how—” She stopped, unable to say the words out loud.
“You still have the hots for me?” Owen finished, looking way too pleased.
Sweat trickled between her breasts and she ground her teeth together in irritation.
Didn’t he understand how this lapse in judgement could affect her career? If anyone heard about her inappropriate actions, and how a volunteer had nearly discovered her…
“Your medical records didn’t mention you being delusional. While the kiss was pleasant, the earth didn’t move, and it can’t—won’t—happen again.” She turned over a small rock with her boot and placed her arms behind her back. She should cross her fingers against the world swallowing her whole for lying.
Sure, Owen would believe her after her sweaty little hands unbuttoned his shirt to caress his skin, right after she mumbled how she had to touch him. Maybe she’d get lucky and his short-term memory problems would get her out of this mess.
Fire flaring in his gaze, he placed his left hand on her hip, while his right index finger slipped underneath her blouse to tease the skin above her jeans. A shiver rippled through her. “If you want to lie to yourself, go ahead, but I know the truth. A woman who ’bout crawls into my skin like you did feels something, and given more time, I bet the earth damn well would’ve moved.”
Her panties grew damp again, but she swatted his hands away and sidestepped him. Arms crossed over her chest, she pointed her chin in defiance. “You’re free to think whatever you want. It makes no difference to me.”
If she’d possessed any doubts about needing Addie to release her from her promise, this disaster erased them. Owen was part of her past. She intended to move forward with her life. Helping Owen would wreak havoc on her plans.
“I’ll finish today’s session, but then I’m turning your case over to either your physical therapist or our full-time speech pathologist. Do you have a preference?”
Owen stumbled backward, bumping into the small worktable. He gripped the edge to steady himself. “Don’t.”
The one word, barely audible and rattled with desperation, sliced through her.
“I think it’s best for us both.”
“I disagree.”
“That’s a big surprise.”
He paled, and his balance faltered. “My career, my life, are on the line. I know I’m not fit for active duty now, but if the Army wants to discharge me, I can appeal. My best shot is convincing the board my condition isn’t stable enough for a permanent decision. If I do, they can put me on the Temporary Disability Retirement List.”
They both knew the designation gave him up to five years to meet medical retention standards. During that time, he’d undergo physical evaluations every twelve to eighteen months, and if his condition “stabilized” a permanent decision would be made.
“I need to show them I’ve made progress, and all I need is more time.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Owen, and I can’t begin to understand, but everyone here will do his or her best to help you. That includes me. I truly want the best for you, and for that to happen, you should work with someone else.”
He tugged on his shirt. “I’ve lost my best friend, the guy who got me through every scrape in my life. I’ve got other friends, but none like that. No one knows, knew me, the way Landon did. No one except you. Don’t ask me to work with someone else when you’re the reason I’m here. I need you to keep me going.”
His hoarse, low plea the depth of Owen’s anguish, and vulnerability radiated through her. How could she forget he’d survived a suicide bombing and lost his best friend? He reached out, but she pulled back, and he shoved his hands in his front pockets.
“I can’t. And I really think this is best for you too. What if you’re wrong and whatever’s going on between us gets in the way of your recovery?”
“It won’t. Don’t give up on me.”
Her heart pinched. How could a human being with any compassion, any soul, turn her back on him after what he’d said? “That’s not what I’m doing. What you’ve been through would buckle the strongest of men. I think you can overcome this. I’m just not the right person to help you.”
“Yes, you are. How can I change your mind?”
